This Thanksgiving was a particularly busy one this year. On Thursday we went to my paternal grandparents house for lunch and for dinner we went to my step-paternal grandpa's (that would be my step-dad's dad) house for dinner. On Friday, I went and got my hair highlighted, something I haven't done for three years. Then we went to my uncle's house for Thanksgiving dinner with my mom (the joys of divorced parents!). Saturday morning we woke up early to go to my in-laws house (I don't like the word in-laws, I feel like it has a bad connotation, I happen to like my in-laws). The drive there was great. Both boys slept and it was nice and peaceful. However, Sunday afternoon turned out to be a different story. We left Anne and Frank's (my in-laws) house around 2:45. It was a wet, chilly, rainy, cloudy, yucky day. Jim decides to not stop at Sheetz to get gas before we get on the highway, rather he waits until we pass the highway to try to find one. At first it doesn't look like there is one on this side of the highway so he goes to turn around right before I spot a Speedway. So he pulls into a parking lot to go back out the same way. We should have seen this as sign. Once we are on the highway, he realizes that he left the gas flap (whatever the little gas door is called) open, so we have to stop at the next exit for him to close it. Again, getting back on the highway, we enter a traffic jam. While in the traffic jam (that is actually moving decently, so a traffic backup we'll say) we see a small dog on the side of the highway!
Me: Jim there's a DOG on the highway!!!!
Jim: What am I supposed to do?!
Me: PULL OVER!
Jim proceeds to pull over, not quite wanting to. I hop out of the car and head towards the dog. The dog heads toward the middle of the high way. I follow dog into middle of highway. Cars stop for dog and women following dog. He had his back to me so I just had to pick him up, arms extended, saying please don't bite me, please don't bite me. Traffic resumes. If you knew me, you would know that I'm not a huge dog person. There are very few dogs that I actually like. I used to like dogs when I was little, but I kind of feel like that's just what you're supposed to do when you are little. Like dogs. As I have grown-up, my feelings towards dogs has developed into more of a tolerance than a love for them. So I'm holding this little Chihuahua (how it should be spelled: chiwawa) looking thing, praying it doesn't bit me, hoping it doesn't have rabies, fleas, or some rare unknown dangerous stray dog disease. I walk back to our car, which is now not very close. In the cold wet rain. OK so I rescued the dog from its fate as road kill, but now what? Jim suggests a blanket from our trunk. Back out into the rain. Again, getting back on the highway, now with a stinky, wet, shivering, skin and bones, poor little dog on my lap. In my head, a huge debate on whether I suggest keeping this little furbag. After a few more miles of stopping and going, Jim is fed up and decides that perhaps taking Route 42 would be a better idea. He of course tells me this after about wrecking us because he is looking on the map he pulled up on his phone.
Jim: I think if I take this road and that road, I think that road turns into Route 42.
Me: Whatever you think.
Off the highway. Now we turn down a couple roads and who should awake, but Blake, screaming his head off. I try to use my GPS on my phone, but it decides it doesn't want to keep service. So now I have a stressed out husband, screaming baby, and stinky dog in the car. And we are lost. In the few seconds the GPS was working it said to turn in a 1/4 mile, I know we have gone over a 1/4 mile.
Me: Just pull in somewhere until the GPS starts working so we know which way to go and we are not driving in the wrong direction.
Jim: Well I don't know which way to turn.
Me: Yeah that's why you're stopping to see where we need to go.
GPS decides to work and we turn around. Luckily we had barely missed our turn. We do as the GPS tells us, and turn right. However, the GPS is trying to get us back to 71 not rte 42.
Jim: I think we need to go the other way.
Me: Then go the other way.
Jim: This is taking us to the highway.
Me: Then go the other way.
Jim: Well we're further down the road so we should be past the traffic jam, right?
Me: I doubt it.
Come to highway. Parking lot.
Jim: I think, I'll go the other way.
Me:
Again, heading home now on a route instead of a highway. As we approach the light we have now come at from a third direction, we have to stop a little ways away because everyone else has decided to skip the highway. A small road intersects right before the light, a car is at this road trying to turn left. Jim inches forward so this car can get out and turn left. CRASH! BOOM! SCREECH! Turn around to find car we just inched forward to let out, has hit a car driving in the left lane (there were two lanes a straight lane: right lane, and a turn lane: left lane). Luckily, the guy behind us gets out of his car to check on the people. Glad I didn't have to be a hero twice in one day because I don't know what I would have done with dog and screaming kid and already stressed out husband. (Big boy Joseph was sound asleep). The rest of the trip just escalated in stress, Blake wouldn't stop crying and we continuously got behind someone going 15 under the speed limit. At one point the GPS was increasing projected arrival time home. After Blake cryed for a good hour we decide to stop and Jim goes into Wendy's to feed him. At this point Joseph finally wakes up.
Me: Joseph
Joseph: Uhhh...(normal wake-up grumps)
Me: Joseph look what's on Mommy's lap
Joseph: Opens one eye
Me: Do you see what I have
Joseph: Both eyes wide open. Almost a whisper, A doggie!
Me: Yeah it's a doggie. Do you know where I got it?
Joseph: (after a pause) No, I don't.
Me: He was on the road and about to get hit and I picked him up.
Joseph: Is he coming home?
Me: Yep
Joseph: Can we keep him?
Now how in the world does this three year old know to ask, can we keep him? We don't talk about getting a dog, or a cat, or any pet. How does he know how to ask in the sweetest voice possible, can we keep him? Luckily, while trying to figure out what to do with the little furball, I called my dad who is willing to take him. However, we have to keep him overnight until he is able to come pick him up on Monday. So luckily when asked this sweet little question I was prepared.
Me: We're going to take him home tonight, but Grandpa will be keeping him at his house and we can go visit him and he can come visit us.
Joseph: Oh
Jim comes back with a much quieter Blake and we are on the road again. However, the quiet is only temporary. Finally, after 4 extremely long hours, we make it home. Four hours, for a normally 2 hour trip.
Me: Jim there's a DOG on the highway!!!!
Jim: What am I supposed to do?!
Me: PULL OVER!
Jim proceeds to pull over, not quite wanting to. I hop out of the car and head towards the dog. The dog heads toward the middle of the high way. I follow dog into middle of highway. Cars stop for dog and women following dog. He had his back to me so I just had to pick him up, arms extended, saying please don't bite me, please don't bite me. Traffic resumes. If you knew me, you would know that I'm not a huge dog person. There are very few dogs that I actually like. I used to like dogs when I was little, but I kind of feel like that's just what you're supposed to do when you are little. Like dogs. As I have grown-up, my feelings towards dogs has developed into more of a tolerance than a love for them. So I'm holding this little Chihuahua (how it should be spelled: chiwawa) looking thing, praying it doesn't bit me, hoping it doesn't have rabies, fleas, or some rare unknown dangerous stray dog disease. I walk back to our car, which is now not very close. In the cold wet rain. OK so I rescued the dog from its fate as road kill, but now what? Jim suggests a blanket from our trunk. Back out into the rain. Again, getting back on the highway, now with a stinky, wet, shivering, skin and bones, poor little dog on my lap. In my head, a huge debate on whether I suggest keeping this little furbag. After a few more miles of stopping and going, Jim is fed up and decides that perhaps taking Route 42 would be a better idea. He of course tells me this after about wrecking us because he is looking on the map he pulled up on his phone.
Jim: I think if I take this road and that road, I think that road turns into Route 42.
Me: Whatever you think.
Off the highway. Now we turn down a couple roads and who should awake, but Blake, screaming his head off. I try to use my GPS on my phone, but it decides it doesn't want to keep service. So now I have a stressed out husband, screaming baby, and stinky dog in the car. And we are lost. In the few seconds the GPS was working it said to turn in a 1/4 mile, I know we have gone over a 1/4 mile.
Me: Just pull in somewhere until the GPS starts working so we know which way to go and we are not driving in the wrong direction.
Jim: Well I don't know which way to turn.
Me: Yeah that's why you're stopping to see where we need to go.
GPS decides to work and we turn around. Luckily we had barely missed our turn. We do as the GPS tells us, and turn right. However, the GPS is trying to get us back to 71 not rte 42.
Jim: I think we need to go the other way.
Me: Then go the other way.
Jim: This is taking us to the highway.
Me: Then go the other way.
Jim: Well we're further down the road so we should be past the traffic jam, right?
Me: I doubt it.
Come to highway. Parking lot.
Jim: I think, I'll go the other way.
Me:
Again, heading home now on a route instead of a highway. As we approach the light we have now come at from a third direction, we have to stop a little ways away because everyone else has decided to skip the highway. A small road intersects right before the light, a car is at this road trying to turn left. Jim inches forward so this car can get out and turn left. CRASH! BOOM! SCREECH! Turn around to find car we just inched forward to let out, has hit a car driving in the left lane (there were two lanes a straight lane: right lane, and a turn lane: left lane). Luckily, the guy behind us gets out of his car to check on the people. Glad I didn't have to be a hero twice in one day because I don't know what I would have done with dog and screaming kid and already stressed out husband. (Big boy Joseph was sound asleep). The rest of the trip just escalated in stress, Blake wouldn't stop crying and we continuously got behind someone going 15 under the speed limit. At one point the GPS was increasing projected arrival time home. After Blake cryed for a good hour we decide to stop and Jim goes into Wendy's to feed him. At this point Joseph finally wakes up.
Me: Joseph
Joseph: Uhhh...(normal wake-up grumps)
Me: Joseph look what's on Mommy's lap
Joseph: Opens one eye
Me: Do you see what I have
Joseph: Both eyes wide open. Almost a whisper, A doggie!
Me: Yeah it's a doggie. Do you know where I got it?
Joseph: (after a pause) No, I don't.
Me: He was on the road and about to get hit and I picked him up.
Joseph: Is he coming home?
Me: Yep
Joseph: Can we keep him?
Now how in the world does this three year old know to ask, can we keep him? We don't talk about getting a dog, or a cat, or any pet. How does he know how to ask in the sweetest voice possible, can we keep him? Luckily, while trying to figure out what to do with the little furball, I called my dad who is willing to take him. However, we have to keep him overnight until he is able to come pick him up on Monday. So luckily when asked this sweet little question I was prepared.
Me: We're going to take him home tonight, but Grandpa will be keeping him at his house and we can go visit him and he can come visit us.
Joseph: Oh
Jim comes back with a much quieter Blake and we are on the road again. However, the quiet is only temporary. Finally, after 4 extremely long hours, we make it home. Four hours, for a normally 2 hour trip.
